Power Play (11 page)

“None of that ever happened! None of it!”

“And today I’m going to write about how you made me trade away Taylor so you could get more ice time.”

“I’m not making you do anything! Why would you write those things? Why would you …” I let the sentence trail off. I knew why.

“I have to protect myself.” He paused. “After all I’ve done for you, you walk in here today and think you can tell me what we’re going to do and not do.”

“I was just—”

“Shut up and listen!” he snapped. “You don’t talk, you don’t think, you just listen. Do you understand?”

“Yes, sir.”

“This file is my evidence. If anybody saw this, they would see the pattern, the same way they look at your behaviour from before … at school, on the ice, at the hockey camp. Do you want to read everything I wrote?” He held out the file.

I shook my head and drew in my hands. I didn’t want to read it. I didn’t even want to
touch
it.

“If I can’t trust you, maybe it is time I told everybody what you’ve done and show them this file and—”

“No, please don’t!”

“I’ve trusted you with my deepest secrets, and you want to betray me!”

“I don’t, I
won’t
, honestly!”

The smile returned, but he didn’t answer right away. “I’m not going to. You can trust me to keep
our
secret.” He placed his hand on my leg. “You know how special you are to me. Do you really think I’d want to do something to hurt you?”

I didn’t answer.

“Well, do you?”

“No … of course not.”

“I didn’t make this file just for my protection. It’s for
your
protection too,” he said.

“How does it protect me?”

“By putting an end to any possibility of you deciding to talk. And you should know that it’s more than just these notes. You know, I have other players up here all the time.”

Was he doing to them what he was doing to me?

“And none of them would ever say I did anything but what a coach
should
do,” he said. “I’ve shared rooms with both Josh and Jake, and they’ll swear that everything was completely on the up and up, because it was. And that’s the truth.”

The tightness in my chest got even worse.

“Who do you think people will believe, me or you?”

There was no question—it was him.

“And with this file, if anybody had even the faintest flicker of belief that you were telling the truth, well, that belief would be washed away. You’d be over.”

My whole body started to shake. He was right. He was always right.

“But there’s one more thing you have to know, Cody. If you did tell, and somehow somebody actually did believe you, it would still destroy your life … as well as my life. And then I’d have no choice. I’d have to kill you.”

“What?”

“I would kill you.” He said the words so calmly, in such a matter-of-fact way. “Do you believe me?”

I nodded. I did believe him.

He smiled, and his eyes changed again—a change I’d seen so many times before. “Go to the bedroom … I’ll be there in a minute.”

I wanted to fight, argue, run away, strike out and hit him. But there was nothing I could do. I walked toward the bedroom and lay down on the bed.

He had me trapped even more completely than I’d believed possible. What he was doing was evil and awful and, in a twisted way, brilliant. But what else did I expect from Coach? He was the smartest person I’d ever met.

I heard the chain on the door as he locked us in and the world out. My stomach started churning. I closed my eyes as tightly as I could. I tried to think of other things, other places, tried desperately to let my mind
escape my body, to pretend that I wasn’t here and that it wasn’t going to happen and—the bed sagged and the springs sounded as he climbed onto the bed. And then his hands were on me.

T
he ice stretched out endlessly. Flat and white and perfect. Unmarked, untouched, unused, and pure. My legs pumped faster and faster, the skates moving quicker and quicker. The only sounds were the wind through my hair and my skates hissing against the ice. I’d never moved this fast before—nobody had ever skated this fast before. It felt more like flying than skating. I was free, and nobody could ever catch me, no matter how hard they tried.

And then I heard a new sound—somebody was coming up behind me. I dug in deeper, skated even faster, but the sound was getting louder, the person was gaining. I wanted to look behind me, but that would only slow me down. I had to keep going, but instead I felt myself slowing. The ice under my blades was melting,
and I was sinking in. First my feet and then my ankles and my knees sank beneath the surface. It was getting darker, the light fading until I was engulfed in darkness. I strained to get my breath but I couldn’t. It was like I was suffocating, being buried alive, sinking further and further into the ice until—

I sat bolt upright in bed, unable to stop the scream in my chest from escaping from my mouth.

A light came on and I woke up—shocked, surprised, disoriented, not knowing where I was or what was happening.

“Are you okay?” It was Josh.

“Um … fine,” I lied—not very convincingly. My heart was practically pounding through my chest and I could feel the sweat running down my face. I wiped it with the edge of the sheet. I was in my bedroom at the Olsens’ house. “Sorry for waking you.”

“That’s okay. I was sort of awake anyway.”

It was nice of Josh to lie to me. He was my roommate for road trips. He was a good roommate—he was a good teammate, and probably the closest thing I had to a friend on the whole team. There were even a couple of times when I had fantasized about telling him what was happening, but that wouldn’t have helped. He wouldn’t have believed me—Coach hadn’t touched him.

“Do you think I woke up Jake?” I asked.

“His light is still off. I think that guy could sleep through anything.”

“Maybe
he
should be my roommate on road trips,” I suggested.

“And then who would I get stuck with? No, I’ll stick with you, if you don’t mind,” Josh said.

“That’s more than fine with me, buddy. You know that.”

I didn’t have close friends. I guess, to be honest, I really didn’t have
any
friends. I tried to convince myself that it was because it was so hard to make friends with people when you had to keep something so important from them. But really, I’d never had friends, even before. And now this awful, terrible secret was like a wall, a wedge, a canyon that separated me from everybody. Everybody except one person.

The sick, twisted truth was that the person closest to me, the person I had to trust the most, was the person doing this to me. Coach and I shared lots of secrets, including the most important one—somehow it bonded us together even more. I didn’t know whether that should make me cry or laugh or scream out loud. It was pathetic, but that didn’t make it any less true.

“I always find it hard to sleep after a game,” Josh said.

“
You
? Funny, I had trouble getting to sleep earlier tonight because of
your
snoring.”

“The guy who was screaming shouldn’t be complaining about somebody else snoring,” Josh suggested.

“You’ve got a point there.”

“That
was
a good game.”

“Any game we win is a good game.”

“How’s the jaw?” Josh asked.

I reached up and touched it. “Still a little sore.”

“He really clocked you.”

“I got in a shot or two.” I shrugged.

“That guy is as big as a house,” Josh said.

“And about as smart, but it’s not like I had a choice who I was going to fight. He ran Owen into the boards and I was the closest man to him. You would have done the same thing.”

“I’m not so sure about that. You’re fearless … except maybe in your dreams. Was that guy coming at you in your sleep? That would have made me scream!”

“I’m not afraid of him.”

“Then he must have punched you so hard your brain got scrambled. If you’re not afraid of him, then you’re not very bright.”

“You go to school with me, so you know that being bright isn’t one of my strengths,” I joked.

“You do okay in school. You’re working hard … all those extra tutoring sessions with Coach.”

I felt a sudden jolt of uneasiness. Was he hinting at something? “None of that is my idea.”

“Yeah, Coach can be pretty insistent. He’s a good coach and I like him … but I really wouldn’t want to get on his bad side. We’ve both seen what can happen when he gets mad.” We’d all seen his outbursts. Tossing that newspaper box onto the truck had only been the first. “Not that you have to worry about that.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” I felt a jolt of anger replacing the uneasiness.

“You know … he really likes you.”

“He likes you too!” I snapped.

“Yeah, he does treat me pretty good. Jake too. Maybe it’s because we’re the guys he brought in, you know, his draft picks.”

I felt a rush of contradictory feelings and thoughts. I should have just been glad that Josh felt he treated other people well too, but I did want him to treat me the best.

“That’s probably it,” I said, glad to have an escape.

“I just know he gets scary when he loses his temper,” Josh said. “A couple of times, I thought he was going to climb right over the boards to get at a ref or another coach.”

More and more I was starting to think that he wasn’t actually losing his cool. That it was all on purpose, for show.

“But I guess you’d know better than anybody,” Josh said. “I think you’re the person he’s closest to.”

Again, getting too close. My defences kicked in. “He has lots of friends. It’s like he knows everybody in hockey.”

“He
is
incredible that way,” Josh agreed. “I just meant you know him better than anybody on the team.”

“What about Terry? They’re good friends,” I argued. “I know they spend a lot of time together.”

“I guess so. I mean the players.”

Did Josh know? Was he playing dumb, or fishing for
details, or just screwing around with me? And if he knew, did other guys on the team know, and—?

“But really, let’s be honest, you do work the hardest. You’re paying your dues, like you did in the game tonight. I’d be shocked if Coach didn’t make you captain next year.”

“No guarantees.”

“You can be
my
captain
any
day,” Josh said.

“Thanks. I appreciate that.” I
really
did. But if he knew the truth, would he still want me as his captain, or even a teammate? “Maybe we should get back to sleep,” I suggested.

Josh nodded. He reached over and turned off the lights, throwing my room into darkness. “How about if I try not to snore and you try not to scream so we can both get some sleep.”

“Deal. Big game coming up,” I said.

“And then there’s a big party after—that’s what I’m really resting up for. You are going, right?”

“Have I ever missed a game?” I joked.

“Games, no, parties, yes. You should come to this one for sure.”

“No promises. My parents are coming to the game, so I’m going to see them after. I even got permission to sleep at home, so you won’t have to worry about me disturbing your sleep for at least one night.”

“Yeah, but you can still spend a little time partying with your teammates, right? You
need
to come to the party. It’s your duty.”

“My
duty
?”

“Isn’t that what assistant captains are supposed to do, improve team unity?” I heard him chuckling. “Unless, of course, you’re not willing to take one for the team, and by one, I mean a beer and a babe. I hear there’s going to be plenty of both there.”

“When you put it that way, I guess I have no choice. The sacrifices I’m willing to make for my team have no limits.”

“You’re the man,” Josh joked.

“Can I go to sleep
now
?”

“Yes, sir, assistant captain, sir.” He left my room to return to his.

I pulled the blankets up. Tomorrow, I figured, I would join them after the game and then go home and sleep, and I’d see my parents in the morning. It would be good to spend time with the guys. Sometimes it seemed like it was only on the road trips that I had that chance at all. In Watertown there just wasn’t time. Between school and practices and games and, well … other things …

I pulled the pillow over my head. It would block out Josh’s snoring from the next room … and maybe muffle my screams. Actually, there was no way I was going to get back to sleep. The only thing working harder than my heart was my head. I kept thinking about what would happen if people ever found out. It would be the end of hockey, the end of any dream I’d ever had of making it, the end of my life. I’d just disappear.

The end … that thought rolled around in my head once again. Before all of this, I never would have believed I could even think that way. And those thoughts were coming more often. Somehow they were almost comforting. And that scared me more than anything … well … almost anything. I was beginning to think it would be better to die with this secret than live with the truth getting out.

T
he puck got dumped deep into the far corner. I held up, waiting for it to be cleared up the boards on my side. The forechecker went hard and the defenceman reacted, throwing it around to his partner as our centre pressed down on him. He chipped the puck but didn’t get much on it, so it went right onto my stick! Both defencemen were still low in the corners. There was nobody between me and the net. I cut right out front, alone, just me and the goalie, and shot—the puck went up, past his outstretched glove hand, and rang off the crossbar and then up into the screen!

“Damn!” I screamed, smacking my stick against the boards. We needed that goal. Down by one with less than five minutes to go. I
had
to pot that one.

“Nice shot,” one of their defencemen said as he skated by me. “Open path to the net and you couldn’t put it in.”

“Funny, I didn’t have that problem with your mother last night,” I said. “Of course, that net isn’t nearly as big as her—”

He smacked his stick against the side of my helmet, knocking me down to the ice, and then jumped on top of me. I didn’t have time to recover and I rolled over, protecting my head with my gloves as he pummelled me, and then I felt a series of thuds as players piled on top, pushing and punching and yelling. Instinctively I kept my neck and face covered up so that I didn’t get nicked by any of the dozen skate blades that were all around me. I waited until enough players were pulled off to let me get to my feet. My “friend” was being restrained by a ref and he started screaming at me again.

I blew him a kiss. “Give that to your mother for me. I really enjoyed getting to know her
so
well!”

His face got redder and he struggled to get away from the ref, who had his arms pinned behind his back. I wasn’t going to fight him—not now. He was going to the penalty box and we were going to the power play. This game wasn’t over yet. We’d meet again in another game, and I knew we’d dance with each other for sure. I’d give him that much satisfaction.

There’s no place happier than a dressing room after a win. I hadn’t scored the winning goal, or even the one that tied it up with less than thirty seconds left in the game. I hadn’t even been on the ice for either of them, but everybody in the room knew who’d got an unofficial assist on both goals—who’d won the game for us. Me. If I hadn’t chirped the guy, he wouldn’t have ended up with a double minor and we wouldn’t have gone to the power play and scored to begin with.

There was lots of laughter and good-natured yelling as people flicked each other with towels, squirted water at each other, and insulted each other’s body parts. It was all typical dressing room stuff. It flowed around me, but I wasn’t part of it. People had learned that my game face didn’t come off until well after the game.

I finished washing up and got out of the shower, a towel wrapped around me—not talking, not laughing, not looking. I couldn’t help thinking about that fake file—I didn’t want to
ever
let anybody think that I was looking at guys in the showers.

I went over to my locker and continued to towel off. I wanted to get dressed and out quickly so I could talk to my parents for a while and still get to the party. I wanted a beer. No, I
needed
a beer—or three or five or seven.

It had gotten to be more of something I needed to wind down, to turn my mind off. Sleep wasn’t even an escape anymore. Either I couldn’t get to sleep or I couldn’t stay asleep, and even when I did drift off, my mind was
filled with bad dreams and thoughts. It seemed like it was only after I’d had a few beers in me that I was able to relax, forget about things, and not worry.

And tonight, I
deserved
something to drink. I was a hero and I wanted to celebrate. It would be good to feel like I was part of something, part of a team. For a little while, fuelled by some beer, I could pretend that everything was okay, that these were my friends.

Josh had told me that it was a private party—an “unofficial” party at a club—and we’d been promised kegs of beer, lots of food, and plenty of puck-bunnies. I think I needed to be around a girl almost as much as I needed something to drink.

I’d dated a bit in Watertown, nothing steady. Not that I was looking for something steady, but it was important that the guys on the team see me with girls. I couldn’t afford to let any rumours get started. Other guys on the team had girlfriends—somehow they found enough time. But Coach was always warning me not to let any girl get in the way of my dreams … or maybe it was in the way of his dream.

There was this one time, after a game, when he saw me talking to a girl and he marched over and said some things, and it was really strange. It was almost like he was jealous. How sick was that? How sick was all of this?

I needed a girl tonight. Maybe even more than for everybody else, I needed to be around girls to prove
something to myself. I
wasn’t
gay. I was straight. I
did
like girls. No matter what was being done to me.

Sometimes it was hard
not
to question that. Was that the reason why I’d never had a steady girlfriend? Was it because, deep down inside, I wasn’t aimed that way? Was that what Coach saw in me in the first place? Was that why he chose me instead of somebody else, because he knew that I wanted to—no, that was stupid! I liked girls. I liked them a lot. I liked looking at them, being with them. I had posters on the walls in my room and copies of
Penthouse
stuffed under my mattress. Tonight I’d find a girl and show everybody what sort of man I was.

There was an explosion of laughter and screams, and I looked over. Sean was standing in the middle of a giant powdery cloud with a blow-dryer in his hand. Looked like somebody had loaded the blow-dryer with baby powder, and when he turned it on it shot out and covered him from head to foot.

Practical jokes were just a part of the locker room, whether it was filling somebody’s gloves with shaving cream, or nailing their shoes to the floor, or hiding their clothes. I was okay with the pranks, but I didn’t do them myself, and strangely, nobody did them to me. I was grateful for that. And, at the same time, kind of sad. That’s what teammates did to each other. That’s what friends did. I was sitting in a crowded dressing room filled with people, and I was by myself.

I staggered out of the party and into the night. The cold air felt good, and as the door shut behind me, the music and voices were almost blocked and it was close to quiet … although there was a ringing in my ears. I wasn’t sure if that was from the loud volume or the shot I’d taken at the end of the game. That guy really
had
tried to take my head off. Not that I could blame him. I would have wanted to do the same if he’d said something like that about my mother. The difference was that I wouldn’t have done it. Not then, not in a way that would have hurt my team. I would have picked my spot, waited for the ref to turn around, or even waited a game or two. You couldn’t let people get under your skin that way. At least, you couldn’t let them see that they’d gotten under your skin. There was a difference between people thinking you were crazy and actually being crazy. Coach had drilled it into me that I needed to stay in control—the way he stayed in control. Even his temper outbursts were planned. Most people didn’t know that, but I was sure of it now.

My head
did
hurt where that guy had smacked me, but it was worth it. I’d trade a wound for a win any day, and, like my father had said, there really wasn’t much up there to damage. A few good shots might even settle down my thoughts. I wouldn’t have minded having some things driven right out of my head.

The door opened up again, and Josh and Jake, followed
by Owen and Steve, stumbled out, singing and yelling and laughing. Owen was as drunk as I’d ever seen him, and if it hadn’t been for Steve holding him up, he would have fallen flat on his face.

“Here, take him,” Steve said as he passed Owen over to Jake and Josh. Neither of them seemed too steady on their feet either, and for a second I thought all three might topple over like semi-drunk dominoes.

“I have to go back and clear everybody else out. It’s getting close to curfew,” Steve said.

“I’ll help,” I offered.

He opened the door and we were hit by a wave of music and smoke that practically blew us backwards. I took another deep breath of cold air and then we went back into the room. It was dark and loud and crowded and hot. There had to be over a hundred people, and their body heat alone was suffocating, the smell of sweat and beer overwhelming.

“Some of the guys aren’t going to be happy to leave,” Steve yelled in my ear. “Tell ‘em it’s orders, from me.”

“Yes, Captain!” I said and gave him a salute. He smiled and saluted back.

The first person I saw was Kevin. He was in the corner getting “busy” with a girl. The way they were going at it, they needed to get themselves a room. Kevin was big and tough, the team enforcer. He had a couple of inches and thirty pounds on me. I’d seen him fight enough to know he could handle himself. He had virtually no chance of
making the Show, but the little chance he had involved beating people with his fists, not beating the goalie with his shots. He could be difficult even when he was sober and not otherwise distracted. And it didn’t help me any that he was a veteran—a fourth-year player—who probably thought I was wearing the “A” that should have been on his sweater. It would be better for Steve to talk to him.

I tapped one of our other players—Jeremy—on the back.

“Cody!” he yelled, and he gave me a big hug. “You are the man! You won that one for us, buddy!”

“Team game and a team win,” I replied.

Jeremy was obviously well into the bag. I didn’t think there was one person in the room who wasn’t at least a little tipsy, and the guys on our team were leading in that department.

“It’s time to go,” I said above the noise. “Or we’ll miss curfew.”

“Okay, sure.” He turned to the girls he was standing with. “Did you two get to meet Cody?” he yelled.

They both nodded. Not only had I met them, I’d danced with both and gotten one of their numbers—although for the life of me I couldn’t remember either of their names. After the sixth or seventh beer, everything had started blurring together. I wasn’t feeling any pain myself.

“You’re going to call me, right?” one of the girls asked me.

“Count on it.” I just hoped she’d written her name on the slip of paper or I wouldn’t know who to ask for if I did ring the number.

She reached over, grabbed me, pulled me toward her, and gave me a long kiss good night. I was so shocked that I almost pulled away, but I didn’t. That wouldn’t have looked good. I needed to put on a show. I bent her back over and kissed her long and hard for good measure. Jeremy hooted and gave me a slap on the back so hard that I almost chomped down on her tongue.

I stopped the kiss, but kept one arm around her waist. She was pretty, happy, and very drunk. Too bad we needed to go.

“Next time I’m in town,” I said.

The puck-bunny’s smile got even bigger. Jeremy hooted again. He looked very impressed. That was even more important than what
she
thought of me. I might never see her again.

“They’re waiting for you out there!” I yelled at Jeremy, pointing at the door.

He nodded, gave the other girl a big kiss, and headed out, threading his way through the crowd. He bumped into some of the other guys going in the same direction. I rounded up a couple more and even enlisted Tanner—who seemed remarkably sober—to help get the others. It didn’t take long.

“Do you see anybody else?” Steve asked.

“Did you get Kevin?” I yelled back.

“I didn’t even see him. I thought he was out already!”

I looked through the crowd and into the corner. He was there in the dark, partially hidden, still intertwined with that girl. I pointed, and Steve craned his neck until he could see him too.

“Go and get him and I’ll meet you outside. If we don’t get them moving soon, we’ll lose a couple of them!”

What could I do? The captain had asked me. I pushed my way back into the room toward Kevin. He was way too occupied to notice me until I was practically on top of them.

I tapped him on the shoulder. He turned around and glared at me.

“I’m a little busy here, rookie,” he snapped.

“We have to go.”

“
You
have to go.” He turned away, back to his business.

I reached out and grabbed his arm, and he suddenly spun around and gave me a push away. I staggered backwards.

“Screw off!” he yelled.

He took a couple of steps toward me. His fists were clenched. He was ready to fight me, right there and then. It was strange, but now that he was reacting the way I thought he might, it was more comforting than disturbing. I liked to predict what was going to happen, even if that prediction got me a shot in the teeth.

I didn’t think I could take him, not straight-up and not without getting the jump on him. Still, if we’d been
on the ice, I’d have had no choice but to answer the bell and fight him. I shook my head slowly. This
wasn’t
the ice and I didn’t have to fight him. I didn’t care if a couple of dozen guys and puck-bunnies were watching, waiting for us to put on a show. What he didn’t know was that I didn’t
care
if he came or not. It wasn’t me who was going to get into trouble.

“We all have to leave, but you stay if you want!” I yelled over the music.

I turned and walked away, half expecting him to reach out and grab me and spin me around. I balled my fist … waiting. With each step, I felt a little more relaxed—no, I couldn’t allow myself to relax.

I pushed through the door. Maybe he’d get back in time for curfew. Maybe he wouldn’t. None of it was
my
problem. It just felt good to get outside again, although it wasn’t so quiet anymore. A bunch of drunken hockey players were combining for a loud chorus of singing, swearing, and yelling.

“Where’s Kevin?” Steve yelled over the noise.

“He’s decided he’s going to stay.”